FortyOne Foot Ladder
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: The team goes on a mission and its consequences affect one team member a bit too much. J/S Conclusion up. Whew.
1. Regret

Jack sat at his desk finishing a report that he needed to turn in by five or he wasn't going to be allowed to exit the building. He scribbled away, frequently checking his notes, making sure everything was correct. From the casual observer, it would appear that he was being quite productive, when in fact he wasn't getting very far at all.  
  
His thoughts were scattered in a million different places, but the least of all on the report of a missing 67-year old woman in front of him. The team did find her, raped and left lifeless behind a dumpster three blocks from her apartment. Sam and Vivian were the ones that found her, half clothed and badly bruised. Jack sighed because it only added another reason for Sam to be so completely against men.  
  
Try as he may to focus, his thoughts wandered back and fourth, between his daughters' open house this evening, what would be happening there, and the meeting he'd just had with his team. He ceased writing and lay his pen down gently, his hand immediately removed his glasses. His other hand went up to his temple, applying pressure to his quickly increasing headache. Jack sighed again as he recalled the meeting, frowning at his most recent decision or assignment.  
  
Meeting earlier that day.  
  
Two o'clock rolled around for their afternoon meeting and Sam remained at her desk turning in her swivel chair to face the table. Danny sat next to Jack and Vivian while Martin, who'd just arrived with information on their lead suspect, leaned against another desk. All of them brainstormed as to what they should do about their suspect, Bryan Jacobs.  
  
The team made Jacobs their number one suspect after they noticed a pattern of disappearances related to him in some way or another, one of which related to their missing person. Interestingly enough, all the women were tall, slender, fair complexion and had brown hair. The only problem was that the team didn't know what he did to the women, and if he was really the man they were looking for, they needed to catch him in the act. Danny proposed that they should lure him into a trap to find out exactly what would happen to the women and see where he took them.  
  
After concocting a plan, all their eyes wandered over to Samantha, sitting in her chair and chewing her pen, deep in thought. After getting a vibe of the overall consensus of the group, Samantha volunteered to be the "Live Bait" and as she almost perfectly fit the description, sans the brown hair, the team agreed that she would be sent in.  
  
Jack was slightly hesitant about sending any of his agents in to an unusually dangerous situation. It was hard enough when Vivian did the Underground Railroad thing, and he wasn't nearly as close with her as he was with Sam. The thousand consequences kept running through his brain as to what could happen and what should be done to prevent anything from happening to Sam. As he sat at the table staring at his files while the rest of the team dispersed, he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up to meet an intense gaze, unwavering and guarded. It was as though she could see what he was thinking without him being able to know what she was thinking. Sam's dark piercing eyes finally broke contact, going directly to the ground, almost trying to seek cover before being found out. Without saying a word, he rose from his chair and headed towards his office, aware that her eyes were trained on his back the entire time.  
  
Once in his office, he slowly pulled his chair out, unbuttoned his bottom button, and sat down for a fun-filled hour-and-a-half of reports and scut work. Danny came in forty-five minutes later to get his assignment, and returned to Martin's desk to relay Jack's instructions. One such instruction was to never let Sam out of their sight.  
  
Around four, Sam hesitantly opened the large glass door into Jack's office and stood at a safe, ten feet away from his desk, patiently waiting for his thoughts to come back to reality. Jack stared down at his file, realizing he had not touched it for twenty minutes. His glasses lay on his desk next to his pen, his nerves grating from his persisting headache. Finally composed, he looked up at the woman who extracted so much energy from him; she who left him constantly confused and uncertain.  
  
"Do you have the information on the bar and all the escape routes?" asked Jack in a tired, monotone voice. "Yes, I am about to head out now. I just wanted to see if you were all right," she said the latter more carefully, slowly cocking her head to the right. I'm signing divorce papers tonight. Do I look fine to you?  
  
"Yes, perfectly fine, just a headache," feeling the need to get the subject back on track, Jack quickly stated, "Martin and Danny will be at the bar to observe you." "You're not going to come see me in action?" she replied, slightly taken back by him not attending the mission. She betrayed no emotion, no slight annoyance at his obvious need to push her away. He kept her far away, but just in his grasp. Just to have a shred of control over her or either he couldn't fully relinquish the feelings that refused to go away.  
  
"It's open house night at school. Non-negotiable." Sam averted her eyes to the ground, another wave of emotions rushing over her. She remained silent, her mind churning over the thoughts and guilt that came when he mentioned his family. She recovered quickly when she felt his eyes on her, returning the penetrable gaze she had previously directed at him. To prevent the awkward situation from getting worse, she chose to respond in her usual light-hearted, sarcastic remark.  
  
"This is understandable, I mean who could pass up an exciting evening conversing with teachers and pretentious parents, over a night with a killer?" "Not only the parents, but the children that go along with them, and their beautiful artwork. You should see what the kids draw nowadays. One boy had a picture hanging up that was of his mom and dad, his older sister and younger brother, his mom's new husband and his half-sister, his dad's boyfriend, and the baby-sitter," he recalled slowly, smiling at the end.  
  
"And you thought you had it bad," Sam responded smiling. Jack's smile quickly retracted and Sam realized her mistake. Feeling it was her time to exit, Sam quickly uttered, "I'm going to go now." Jack nodded and watched her retreating form and quickly said, "Sam?" she paused in the doorway and looked back, "Be careful. and please be good," he added with a smirk. She returned the smile and said, "sure Jack." Her smile quickly disappeared as soon as she turned around and headed towards her desk, not looking forward to her evening.  
  
Two days prior:  
  
The coffee was too hot. Too hot to drink and look graceful while doing so. Sam quickly swallowed the mouthful she had, flinching as it scorched her tongue and seared her throat. Why she didn't check it first, she didn't know. Maybe because she was preoccupied. Definitely. She was definitely preoccupied, and her thoughts went romping about in her brain as though elephants were playing basketball. Each moment ticked by, adding one more ounce of nerve racking, gut wrenching guilt to her already burdened mind.  
  
Sam walked to the tiled table and sat down in the small coffee shop, watching people come in and out, wondering what horrible things they had done in their lives. As she thought back to the past few months, she tried to desperately seek some balance. It had been almost five months since that one night. The one night that changed everything between her and Jack. Admittedly so, they had done their best to return to normal, tried to because it would be too awkward and too unrealistic not to do so in such a high-pressure situation.  
  
It was in fact easier to return to normal on the surface than to even attempt to further explore her feelings. To do so would kill her on the inside, because even though he was separated with his wife, she knew he still loved his wife and children. Jack wasn't in love with Sam, perhaps he lusted after her, but Sam was too easily deceived when it came to men. She didn't want her heart to be trampled upon and she knew enough not to play with that of a married man's.  
  
The worst part was hearing about his family and the pangs of regret every time he brought them up, even when it wasn't remotely related to their situation or a case. As it seemed though, everything was related at work. She had never believed herself one to enter into an adulterous situation, let alone hurt someone else out of passion and lust. But who does? Who plans to have an affair with their boss? She certainly never did.  
  
She did know that she wanted the pain to go away and the heaviness upon her heart to dissipate. She would not even consider addressing her feelings for him because she knew under no circumstances could they be returned. Sam knew the feelings existed and she sometimes let them show, but she was a fort, an iron fort. She had constructed forty-foot walls of steel and iron around herself and as long as Jack didn't come up with a forty-one foot ladder, she would be perfectly fine.  
  
Constantly feeling the need to be in control, never letting her emotions get the best of her, Sam insisted on maintaining a strong sense of independence and objectiveness. She never tried to let her personal beliefs or feelings get in the way of a case, but inevitably they would infiltrate her solid defenses and shine through. And she hated herself for it. Sometimes she was too passionate about a case, or hated how much some of the situations resembled her own life, and she couldn't keep quiet. She almost refused to, as if it were her duty to be the voice of reason or doubt or whatever voice that was needed to make the mission work. To direct their focus or bring up questions, just to get the other side of things.  
  
She frowned again as she took another sip of her coffee. Sitting back in her chair, see scanned outside to see if she could spot Vivian and Danny. She was waiting to meet with them, and as it was, her break was nearing an end. They were all trading off searching for a 67- year old woman. She hoped she wouldn't be the one to find her. She hated the possibilities of what could happen to a person in this city.  
  
Morning after Jack signed his divorce papers and Sam's adventure.  
  
Jack walked into the office, tired from the lack of sleep, yet anxious with anticipation. It was early, too early. He'd received a message on his voice mail from Vivian saying that they got the guy and that for the most part, Samantha came out unscathed. Vivian didn't elaborate in her message, but he knew there would be more to the story. He was surprised Sam hadn't left him a message saying what had happened; he knew she was fond of telling him of what he missed out on when he had other commitments.  
  
Jack was almost two hours early to work. He headed straight towards the coffeepot to get it going, but paused when it was already on, almost done with the first round. He quickly looked around the office, scanning the desks to see who else was insane enough to be at work at such an outrageous time. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the familiar blond head, barely peaking over her desk's barrier. Feeling somewhat unnerved, he quickly, quietly turned around and headed towards his office. Edging in and closing the door quickly, he paused when he saw an envelope lying in the center of his desk.  
  
The manila envelope had interoffice mail across the front of it. He looked out of his windows, checking to see if Sam was still working, then sat on the edge of his desk, opening the manila folder. It was an injury report that needed to be filed and also an administrative leave for one Samantha Spade. 


	2. Frustration

~~~ Let me preface this small chapter by saying that I forgot to do the last chapter. None of the characters in this story belong to me. If they did I would be a very happy person. I would also like to add that I began this story almost two weeks ago from a couple of spoilers I picked up. So, I know it may be somewhat similar to the most recent case, but it has a completely different spin on things. Enjoy. ~~~  
  
Somewhat shocked, Jack skimmed over the report, trying to find the reasons for her administrative leave. He knew there were normally only a few reasons to have it, one being if something happened on the job, such as being shot, or injuring another human, the officer would take leave until innocence could be proven.  
  
Upon further scrutiny he learned that she had in fact shot Bryan Jacobs as well as being shot herself. Realizing her reason for being there, he immediately dropped the folder and headed to her desk to send her home.  
  
Jack crossed the room quietly and upon reaching her desk, saw Samantha turn and look to see who was approaching. He noted that she immediately stiffened as she saw who it was. Jack went to her right and sat against the desk, trying to keep as casual and focused as possible. She didn't say 'hello' or offer a sarcastic remark, but kept typing, apparently trying to finish her report.  
  
Sam heard footsteps approaching and frowned. She was not in any way capable of speaking with anyone, let alone Jack. Her nerves had passed their frenzied point and she had begun to grow tired from the high amount of stress and pressure she had been put under the previous evening. Having Jack come over to speak with her when she had no energy to guard herself did not make Samantha the most amiable person to speak with. She did not feel able to handle anything he might say or do, and didn't like that at all. It was all about will power, strength. Wanting something you shouldn't. Getting it and having to give it back again. She hated that.  
  
"Why didn't you call me?" was the only thing Jack could ask at that point, too shocked not to want more details. He fixed an almost interrogator look upon his face, searching in some way for answers she would not offer vocally, something in her features to betray her.  
  
Sam kept working, not slowing down at all, and replied with a scratchy voice, " It was late, I didn't know where you would be or what you were doing. It was kind of hectic last night. Vivian said she would leave a message."  
  
"That never stopped you before."  
  
"I never had a reason to stop before," she paused, turned over a sheet of paper and kept typing at a quick, mechanic pace. She knew she shouldn't have said that. See what you do to me? Make me say things I don't mean. Please go away. Let me breakdown on my own please.  
  
Jack brushed off her last comment knowing she didn't really mean what she said and looked towards the ground, suddenly finding his shoes fascinating. He actually began to wonder why only one of his shoes was double knotted. He sat there for a moment or two; listening to her type, waiting for her to speak. Scratching the back of his head he turned once more to look at her, this time with a more compassionate approach.  
  
"I shouldn't have sent you," he said regretfully.  
  
"Yes you should have, he admitted to doing it . everything." Ahh, that Samantha, she was always about the job, nothing else.  
  
"That's not what I meant." In no way willing to cross the line that was now a broad stripe, Sam used the remaining energy she had to restrain herself and continue typing.  
  
Jack watched her grind her teeth, clenching her jaw. She was desperately trying to hold everything in, and it hurt him to see her in such a state.  
  
Curiosity finally gave way, and Jack asked what happened that evening. 


	3. Release

Well, here is the next round and there will be more of course. Unless my Bio professor decides to take pity on me, it may be a couple days until the next update. Thanks for reading and reviewing guys. Y'all rock! Once again, characters not mine, heck the story is barely mine. But the embellishment. All Mine!!!  
  
Previously on Tales of the InFedels  
  
Curiosity finally gave way, and Jack asked what happened.  
  
Sam hesitated slightly, leaning her head away from him in contemplation. She shook her head, almost to shake away the chaos being wrought in her brain. Straightening back up, she decided to make it short and sweet.  
  
"It wasn't as eventful as everyone is making it out to be. Did I do things I shouldn't have? Yes," she stated. The computer screen was beginning to blur together and her good eye was experiencing the effects of staring at a screen for three hours straight. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  
  
"I broke protocol. I went up to Jacobs' room. I thought Danny had gotten something in the door in time to keep it slightly ajar, but apparently not. Basically all that happened was that there were some shots fired and uh, well he's in the hospital now," Sam said nonchalantly as possible. With the state she was in, she felt that there was no way she was going to be able to elaborate more than that.  
  
Moments passed and moved her eyes to the keyboard, waiting for him to leave.  
  
"Samantha, what happened?" scooting closer, Jack pulled the 'I'm the boss who wants to know what happened' tone, and it worked. She hated when he addressed her like that. He pulled that tone with the Anwar case, acting stern and severe.  
  
Sam sighed and bent her head down with frustration and despair. Biting her lip in thought, she looked to the screen for something to get her started, to keep the tears from coming. Having to recount her evening was becoming a cumbersome task, reliving it each time with each retelling. She closed her eyes and began, not wanting to see Jack's reaction at all.  
  
"Jacobs took me up to his room and we talked for a while, Danny was right outside the room, and Martin was in the stairwell two doors down. Jacobs began to come on to me, I refused him and he, he wouldn't stop," Sam paused, swallowing to keep her gag reflex in check. "I managed to stand up and headed towards the door, but he pulled me down to the ground. I took him out with a scissors kick in my four-inch heels and punched him in the eye, with a right hook. I got up, but he grabbed me by the leg and wouldn't let go."  
  
Sam paused, remembering she forgot to add that to her report. She scrolled up the page and typed it in, while Jack waited patiently, keeping his fiery eyes fixed on her. She stopped typing once she was done and continued, but kept her eyes on the screen, and her bruised hand on the mouse, afraid of what might happen if she looked at him. It also didn't help that her left eye was almost swollen shut from Jacobs' love taps.  
  
"He got on top of me and hit me twice, that bastard. it hurt, and then he pulled out his gun. Mine was in my purse, which had conveniently slid under the bed. So we wrestled with that for a while, then I kneed him in the gut because he had my arms locked," Sam made the position her arms were in, "and I got away."  
  
"After he recovered from being kneed, he fired after me as I ran to the door, and the bullet got lodged in the wall. All the while Danny was trying to get the door open, shooting the lock and using a lot of pressure. I kicked the gun away from him and he pulled out a small pistol and shot it, and it grazed my upper arm. I got the gun and shot him in his pelvic region just as Danny and Martin got the door open," she stopped abruptly, out of breath from speaking so fast, reliving the scene for a fourth time in less than twelve hours. She realized she was shaking again and firmly placed her hand on the desk, trying to make it stop.  
  
Jack sat there, watching her every emotion leak out and wanting nothing more than to make sure she was all right. He was thankful that she was all right, physically speaking. He saw her shaking; her already red eyes get teary, and watched her struggle with every sentence.  
  
But he made no move towards her. Nothing to betray what he felt about her. He was no longer married, but he still loved his family. He was no longer married, but he still loved his job. At the time, being married to both didn't work; one had to go. While he spent his tiresome evening making that decision, Sam was getting smacked around, placed in unneeded danger.  
  
Before he could say anything, she started talking again, trying to say whatever she had left, hoping that he would leave her in peace.  
  
"I know there are about a million things I did wrong, but what is done is done. I made my mistakes; I have and will learn from them. He recovered and is in the care unit right now," she paused again, glancing at him slightly while thinking of anything to add. "And I am almost done, and will be out of here before anyone else gets in." 


	4. Two spoons and a rope

~Alrighty. Once again all this, isn't mine. Well, at least the characters aren't. I would like to give a shout-out to the reviewers. I can safely say that y'all are the most hardcore, fantastic, talented people, and I am downright happy to have this story read by individuals such as yourself. As to my being a lurker at a certain board that is absolutely wonderful, hahaha, is all I can offer in response. I would also like to apologize for any roughness in the conclusion to this story due to me posting in a hurry. My computer is dying and I am trying to get his up before the blue-screen of death takes over. Anyway, enjoy the finale and have a lovely day.~  
  
The infedels live on, part IV.  
  
In their general vicinity, there was only one person who had already come in and begun working and he enjoyed the glow of his computer screen more than daylight and human contact, hence the reason for his early arrival. Sam frowned upon her inability to recall his name. It was something like Byers or Langley, no that wasn't it. He had a thing about helping those people who believed in aliens. Hey whatever floats your boat.  
  
Her wandering mind was brought back to reality when she felt herself responding, "Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine Jack. Nothing a good nap won't cure." What? Where'd that come from? She really did need a nap. When was the last time she'd slept? Depending on one's definition of sleep, not for a good month or two. As far as closing her eyes for a standard amount of time, that being around five and a-half-hours, she was doing that regularly. Up until about what? 60 hours ago? She put her hand up to her temple again. Too much thinking.  
  
Sam decided to physically distract herself from her thoughts and got the document to start printing. She began fiddling with the mouse, pushing it around the mouse pad out of lack of control and nervousness. Aware that Jack's eyes followed her colorful knuckles, which drastically contrasted with her light skin, she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. Jack returned his eyes to his feet, his arms crossed.  
  
Jack's head was spinning, much in the same fashion as Sam's. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to do ten things at once, all of which would be frowned upon. Jack rubbed his face with his hands, a last ditch effort to wake him from this crazy dream. It didn't work though, Sam still sat in front of him, passive, distant, dazed, pick your synonym. Either way, she was gone. All that was left was that blasted wall again. Almost a shell of where she used to be.  
  
Remembering that he hadn't completely looked at her yet, he returned his gaze to her to see if anything was amiss. As far as he could see, the right side of her body was fine. Without even thinking, Jack brought his hand up to her chin and turned her face towards him. Sam flinched with the contact of his skin upon hers and the pain it sent radiating throughout her face. A rush of heat and emotions flooded her senses causing her to gasp. He hadn't touched her face in a long time. She immediately pushed his hand away, never looking him in the eyes.  
  
Without saying anything, Jack stood up and walked away, confused and bothered. Sam sat there, stunned and pained at the same time. With another deep breath and a loud sigh, she closed her eyes instead of looking for where walked off to. She relaxed in her chair, placed her fingers on her temples and lightly massaged them, hoping her grazed arm would stop making that pulsating feeling every time she moved it or flexed.  
  
Jack stood at the coffeepot, angry because he hadn't been there, angry because she was in so much pain, and angry because she had fortified this barrier between them. He remembered the first time he'd met her. Rumor had it was that she was a sharp shooter who had turned down a high-level job after critically injuring her partner with a stray bullet. He never asked why she chose the Missing Persons Unit as her post, but he never asked that of anyone. They were there to do their job and that's all that mattered. He laughed because at the time when she arrived, he thought she was just a kid, barely out of training, trying to act tough. She had him fooled for a long while, never breaking down, not even after she shot someone again out of self-defense. He never knew that she went home and cried for hours, or that she vomited whatever she ate for two days afterward.  
  
Not until a little over a year ago did she actually show any emotion when dealing with a case. The stress began to take its toll on her after a series of cases that led to dead ends, deaths or unresolved cases, and Sam was a step away from having a nervous breakdown. He'd started watching her carefully then, waiting for her to crack and let it all out. She finally did, when they both went to Montana to pick up a child who turned out to be incorrectly identified and was the wrong child. That broke the last straw all right. And when it rains, it pours for Samantha Spade. When all was said and done, Jack had been introduced to some ice cream and learned the real history of Special Agent Spade. After that trip she became a different person, more lively, expressive, confident.  
  
He felt like he was seeing the old Sam, the one who was bothered by nothing, protected from everything, unwilling to show her feelings. Jack didn't know whether he was to blame or if she was experiencing momentary technical difficulties. All he knew was that this façade, her automatic shutdown reflex, needed to disappear from her system. He wanted to touch her again without her recoiling, wanted to talk with her and look her straight in the eyes and have her return the sentiment.  
  
He filled up the cup, black - she liked it strong, and headed back towards her desk. "Thanks," she forced out as he placed the cup on her left side next to her keyboard, leaning against the desk with his head cocked to the side so he could fully see her face. She turned away and started to back her chair away, but he kept it in place with his feet. Sam looked down at her hands, bringing one up to quickly brush the hair that fell into her face. Knowing defeat well, she knew when to surrender. She sighed and closed her eyes as tightly as possible, then looked up at Jack, straight in the eyes with her forty-foot wall erected and firm.  
  
There were butterfly bandages covering a cut on her left cheekbone, which was now swollen, puffy and an unusual shade of green. Her face betrayed no emotion, as though she were a mime forbidden to show any feeling. He'd seen this face before, but never directed at him and it made him uneasy. What happened to the woman who laughed at the way he walked, or gave him a slight raise of an eyebrow when he entered the room? This couldn't be her. This woman in front of him was completely detached, no emotion, no feeling. He knew enough at this point when a woman didn't want to be around him. Jack broke their steadfast gaze and turned towards the sound of doors opening and one or two people arriving.  
  
Sam sat there expressionless, looking at Jack, but staring right through him. She wanted to completely cut off her emotions until she was in the safety of her own home, where she wouldn't get hurt.  
  
Cutting off her emotions. Was that not her goal? She was a woman in man's job was she not? She had been bested in every way imaginable, and was reeling from its effects and the consequences. She had to be ten times more strong, more intelligent, more assured than the next man, and all she really wanted was a hug and some ice cream.  
  
Sam tried to stop the flow of thoughts running through her brain, but all she could do was stare at the man who had much more of an influence on her than they both knew. The looks they gave each other spoke volumes. We're talking War and Peace sized volumes here. Unfortunately, these volumes were written in Sanskrit. Tough luck. Sam blinked several times after he broke eye contact and looked at the clock, figuring she'd better leave before people started coming in or she and Jack did something they'd regret.  
  
Jack looked back to her and watched as she took the report from the printer, signed it, and carefully slipped it into a manila envelope. She filed the other two copies away, where she would retrieve them once she returned.  
  
"When do you want to come back?" Jack crossed his arms, watching her carefully pull her coat over her injured arm.  
  
"Isn't that your decision?" she asked.  
  
"Three days good?" He said, not really sure of what to do.  
  
"It's your call, you're the boss," she said with a little bit of a sting. She picked up her coffee, grasping it tightly in her left hand.  
  
"Last time I checked yes, I was," he said while she handed him the folder. "Thanks for turning this in, I appreciate it."  
  
"No problem. Next time, I will call you as something is happening, just so you will be up to date on everything. Wouldn't want to leave you in the dark or anything like that," she said with a hint of a smile and turned to leave.  
  
Jack smirked at her, happy to know the Sam he knew hadn't completely left him. "Wonderful. Glad to know you care. Get out of here. I don't want to see you in this office until Friday," he called out to her retreating form. "Hey Sam?" she stopped and turned around. "You okay? Getting home and everything?"  
  
She nodded and offered the best smile she could and turned back towards the exit. He watched her walk down the hallway, her shoulders drew together almost immediately, with her head focused on the ground. She started turning left and looked back one more time, giving him an unreadable expression. Jack's first urge was to follow her, make sure she got home all right, but he knew she wouldn't let him. His phone rang at that moment anyway. It was Vivian saying she had a flat tire and would be a little late to work.  
  
Sam boarded the subway, forging through the legions of people going the opposite direction. She sat near a window and stared out at nothing, except a grimy wall, and thousands of faces. Seven stops later and one train switch, Sam was anywhere but where she needed to be - home.  
  
She nuzzled her jacket tighter around her as she walked through the park, happy that despite everything, the sun still shone. She walked to her favorite bench and sat down carefully. It was right in front of the pond under a tree of which she'd never learned the name. The leaves would be budding soon and the grass would become green and fresh again. She only hoped that the next time she came here, she wouldn't be guilty, perturbed or disturbed. Maybe she would come to this bench and have a book with her or someone to sit and chat with. Perhaps sit and discuss relationships or family with a friend. Friends. She had those, she never saw them though. Maybe she would go out tonight. Or maybe she would just stay inside her warm apartment, waiting for the world to move on without her.  
  
Being significantly insignificant had always been a goal of hers. Maybe this was her chance to breakout and get what she really wanted. Was she a ladder climber? No, but she wanted a more - important role in that office, or at least in the bureau. She thought - no she knew - she could make a difference, but she realized she needed more experience before she ever tried anything. Last night taught her that. Last night taught her a good many things, all of which were swirling around in her brain, forming half finished, incoherent thoughts.  
  
She frowned as the pain began to surge back through her body again, coming in waves that radiated outward. It was time to go home and not think. Just be. Sam downed the last of her coffee and rose from the bench, walking towards a trash can and headed towards the nearest subway stop. She got on and sat down next to the window again, looking out at nothing but grimy walls and thousands of people. She got off at her stop and checked her watch. It was 10:30. She wondered how long she'd sat at the park. She'd left work by 6:45, yet she had no idea where the time had gone.  
  
Sam shrugged her shoulders in contemplation as she stopped in the small grocery store near her apartment. She picked up a pack of peas, for her eye, and stopped by the ice cream freezer. Her two best friends, Ben and Jerry, were waiting for her patiently. She slowly opened the frosted door and chose a pint of Phish food, holding the lid tightly so she wouldn't have to clutch the chilled container. She approached the register where Charley, the kind man who owned the store, was reading the New York Times. Glancing at the front page, she frowned at the state of the world. Was there never a day when good news could be reported? She paid for the food, offering Charley a slight smile and walked slowly to her apartment building. And as exhausted as she was, she still didn't want to go home and be alone.  
  
Sam inserted the key into the door of the building and pushed it open with her uninjured arm. The stairs creaked beneath her feet as she rounded the corner of the landing and ascended to another floor. At the third floor, Sam began looking for her apartment keys in her purse. She always had different keys on different chains just in case something happened. Always be prepared, a credo that had been imprinted in her mind during training. She liked training, it was good for her. The competition with boys with guns and the rush she got before graduation when she had to do a 180 in a van driving 60 mph. She liked that; it was a good time in her life. Of course, being a hotshot was never what it's cracked up to once she got into the real world.  
  
After shuffling through her purse, slightly distracted by her reminiscent thoughts, only to find her keys in the outside pocket, she rounded another corner and proceeded down the hallway. Her head bent, hands in her pockets, and bag knocking against her leg with each step on the carpeted floor. She glanced down the hallway at her door and froze in her tracks.  
  
Jack heard her rounding the corner, a bag or something kept bouncing against her leg alarming him of someone approaching. He quickly stood, waiting for her to look up. When she did, she planted herself to the floor, completely surprised by his being there. He made no move forward, just kept his eyes locked on hers.  
  
She stood there for what could have possibly been three minutes, just staring at him, her face expressionless, her eyes however, betrayed everything. Everything they wanted to say, but could not be said, was expressed in those minutes, just with a look. The kind of look that turned her heart into putty and made his brow dot with beads of sweat.  
  
Sam's brain finally made contact with her legs and she began walking slowly towards him. Her eyes welled up with tears and began running freely down her face. She kept her hands in her pockets the whole time, making no attempts to brush away the tears streaking her cheeks. She stopped in front of Jack, her eyes, or eye for the matter, still returned his steadfast gaze. Mere feet apart, and all they could do was stand on the border of uncertainty. Sam broke eye contact, jumping back to reality, resisting all thoughts that had once again flooded her brain. She sniffed a couple times, shrugged her shoulders and threw caution to the wind. Jack smiled shyly at her, knowing it was hard for her to be like this in front of him. Her chin was doing the quiver thing. Just cry and get it out. You'll only feel better once your tear ducts have dried up anyway. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at this woman. He found her amazing in so many different ways, and her beauty alone was enough to overwhelm his senses. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her to need him. Oh no. A song was creeping into his head. NO THINKING.  
  
Sam took another step forward over that imaginary stripe and leaned into Jack, burying her head into his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, constructing a protective barrier around them from the rest of the world. His cheek rested against her head while she stood there, not completely giving in to him, keeping her hands in her pockets with the last shred of strength she had.  
  
She didn't want to be weak. Didn't want to break down and cry. Didn't want to need a shoulder to cry on. But she did, and the last thing she wanted was for the shoulder to be that of a married man's. How was she supposed to know that the man who embraced her so tightly spent most of the previous day trying to sign his divorce papers the previous evening, at an open house no less. How was she supposed to know he sat for two hours outside her door, waiting for her to come home. She didn't know. She didn't know much of anything at that moment, not how she felt about him or why he was even there. The only thing she knew was that it felt good, felt right.  
  
Jack kept his eyes closed, breathing in the distinct scent that was only Sam's. Completely indescribable, completely hers. He remembered when she borrowed his jacket once and it smelt like her for hours after she returned it to him. It was then that he realized that he liked that scent more than he should have. More than a boss should like an employee, more than a married man should like a friend. Jack took in a deep breath and sighed. He had done a good many things that were wrong, that he shouldn't have. But this time, this felt right. This felt good.  
  
Another wave of pain came, her tears increased and Sam lost all that she had left. Sam dropped her plastic bag and her purse to the floor and pushed her arms between him and his jacket, wrapping them tightly around his dress shirt the way she used to. She melted into him completely and all he did was stand there, his powerful arms encircling her.  
  
"I will always be here for you," he whispered into her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck.  
  
"Don't make promises you can't keep Jack," she said, her voice scratchy and muffled by his jacket. He stood there, contemplating whether he should tell her or not. He quickly decided not to, not at least until it had been three months.  
  
He pulled away, lifting her chin to so he could look her in the eyes. His thumbs lightly brushed the tears off her face.  
  
"I went to open house didn't I?" he paused grinning slightly. She knew going to any school-related event was no easy task for him. She cracked a smile that quickly turned to a frown and broke eye contact, remembering once again that he was not hers. She did not like being a mistress, a cohort in adultery. She wanted to back away, grab her ice cream, run into her apartment and curl up on her couch, surrounded by her forty-foot steel walls, where no one, not even Jack could reach her.  
  
He held her firmly, knowing good and well that she was afraid and she didn't know what to do with herself. He didn't like what he had done at all, but he had reconciled the past and his family and was moving on, he still had his girls, and his wife was polite with him, knowing their marriage wouldn't have weathered another year no matter what had happened.  
  
Jack watched her tears continue down her cheek, falling and getting absorbed by her jacket. He didn't know what he wanted, he didn't know how he felt. He did know that he would rather be here, with her, more than anything else.  
  
He repeated himself one more time, a little bit quieter, but more strong and assured. "I will always be here for you," he said.  
  
She stopped struggling, partly from fatigue and partly because she didn't really want him to let her go. She looked back up at him, knowing he meant it, and pushing her conscience aside, she fell back into his embrace. She took a deep breath and sighed, enjoying the feel of him wrapped around her once again, like he used to. But this time it was different. Maybe it felt a little more innocent, a little less rushed and secretive. All that was built up inside of her was released at that moment, and the many more that followed. Jack stroked her blond hair slowly, keeping his arms locked tightly around her.  
  
After seemingly soaking Jack's shoulder, Sam turned her head inward towards his neck and felt a cold metal object brush against her skin. She looked inside Jack's shirt pocket and saw two silver spoons.  
  
"For the ice cream?" she asked, pulling them out carefully. He knew her way too well. "Of course," he said with complete assurance. He'd dug around the office searching for those blasted spoons for almost ten minutes.  
  
Sam smiled at him and pulled away, bending down to pick up her bag. She pulled out the ice cream and sat the bag down. She then leaned against the wall and slid down carefully, discovering new bruises along the way. Jack followed suit and crossed his legs once he'd reached the ground, sitting close beside her, leaning into her slightly. He handed her a spoon and watched as she opened the lid, revealing vanilla ice cream swirled with caramel and full of chocolate fish. Sam took a bite and passed it to Jack. Exactly what she needed, she smiled in utter satisfaction as the ice cream slid down her throat.  
  
She looked over at the man beside her and smiled again. Jack brought his forty-one foot ladder all right. He had is ladder and he even brought a rope to climb inside her steel fortress. That Jack Malone was a smart man. He was all about the job too, but he had learned to somehow keep a little room left for his heart. Just a little.  
  
They sat there for two hours, enjoying their ice cream, talking about cases, the things they hated about work and how Martin always hit on her. Passing time away and simply enjoying each others presence was all they needed, no more, no less.  
  
As a yawn crept its way up her throat, she realized sleep was quickly approaching with or without her consent. Jack bid her farewell like a gentleman, assuring her he would return with news the following day as to what was going on, and perhaps another.  
  
Sam waved goodbye to Jack and closed the door slowly smiling as he walked down the hallway. She was indeed a woman who had emotions and feelings. She was a human who was allowed to just feel about a case and she was learning to be fine with that. Did she feel sorry for shooting that man? Almost. Would she do it again? Probably not, at least not under those circumstances, because she would never place herself in that situation again.  
  
Did she have any idea where she stood with her boss, the man with whom she related to better than anyone, who evoked so many feelings from her? Of course not. She was going to sit back and let whatever was going to happen, happen.  
  
Sam trudged over to her overstuffed couch, pulled off her heels and covered herself with a thick blanket. Sighing loudly, she knew the months ahead were going to be difficult, and that sigh served simply to let out all the bad and let in the good, or to make room for the good. She closed her eyes and smiled once more because she'd had her hug, her ice cream, and now all she needed was rest and relaxation.  
  
"Ahhh. Frohike. That's his name," she stated before sleep took her. She declared her goal the next week was to get to know that unusual man. Being the office hottie was hard work indeed. 


End file.
